I felt the bed sink down as Zach sat on the edge. I should have said something. I could have thanked him for everything. But I just didn’t have it in me. I was exhausted, emotionally drained, and completely confused as to how one minute my life was pretty damn good and then the next a total disaster.
“I saw a Wal-Mart up the road. We need a few things. Do you want to come?” he asked.
Without opening my eyes I shook my head no, still clinging to the pillow.
“Okay, well, I’ll be back. Don’t open the door for anybody. Keep it locked. I have a key. And I have my cell if you need me.” The bed lifted as he rose. I waited to hear the sound of the door—instead I felt his hand on my head, smoothing my hair out of my face.
“Everything is going to be okay,” he said before kissing me on the forehead.
When I heard the sound of the door close I felt alone. Utterly and completely alone. I was scared. I needed my parents more than I ever had before and they weren’t there. I needed my brother, but he was the whole reason I was so anxious in the first place.
I realized Zach had been keeping me grounded through this whole tortuous day. He was the closest thing to family I had here with me, because regardless of the year of regret and anger, I once loved him.
When he walked out of that room, the wall in my heart that had taken forever to build up began to crack slightly.
Tears formed a film in front of my eyes until I finally succumbed to the overwhelming emotions I had been trying so hard to fight.
I cried.
I cried for my brother. For the lives lost. For the families who, unlike mine, would never see their loved ones again. For Mimi. For myself. For everything.
Tears poured out in streams of anger, fear and regret until there was nothing left. Until I was dry. Empty. With nothing left to cry over, I fell asleep.
I awoke to the sound of the door opening. A quick flutter of panic raced through me at the thought of an intruder. Then I saw Zach struggling with several bags and a large box. He made it to the dark oak dresser that held the TV and set everything down.
I sat up in the bed and pulled my knees into my chest. The salty tracks of the dried tears on my cheek reminded me of reality. Sleep had allowed me to forget about it momentarily.
“I got toothbrushes,” Zach said, holding up two toothbrushes and a tube of toothpaste. “I also got you deodorant because even if you look like hell, we don’t want you to smell.” A teasing smile settled on his face.
I picked up the pillow, the only thing for me to hold on to when he left, and tossed it at his head. I didn’t need the pillow anymore. He was back.
“Jerk,” I said and was surprised when it didn’t hurt to smile.
“Hey!” Zach yelled just before he caught the pillow inches from his face.
I shrugged then crawled to the edge of the bed. “What else did you get?”
“A couple slices of pizza. I know you’re probably not hungry, but you haven’t eaten all night.”
“Thanks. What’s in the box?” I asked, curious about its size.
Zach turned his back to me and I heard his hands smack on the side of the box as he took it into his grasp. When he turned back around I was able to see the picture on the side and I wanted to cry and laugh at the same time.
“An Easy Bake Oven,” I said. “You got me an Easy Bake Oven?”
“Yeah. I mean. You used to bake when you were upset. And I know you said you don’t bake anymore, but I saw it and figured why not. You don’t have . . .”
I didn’t let him finish. I threw my arms around his neck.
I pulled away, my eyes going swiftly to his. “You make it really hard to hate you,” I said.
“Now don’t go getting all sappy on me. I don’t need you crying and making the cookies soggy.”
“And then you say something like that and it’s not so hard.”
He gave me a little nudge to my shoulder with his elbow. I was happy to have the mood lighten. And I couldn’t wait to try out the Easy Bake Oven.
“So are we going to do this?” he asked.
“We? No. I’m going to do this.” I took the pack of mix from his hands.
“Wait a minute. I can’t help?”
“You can open the box. Other than that, no. I don’t want you messing it up.”
“Listen to you. Like you’re some sort of professional,” he said.
“Are you saying I’m not? After all, you’re the one who told me I should open a bakery.” I froze after the words left my mouth. Our past was something we couldn’t deny but that didn’t mean it wasn’t uncomfortable to bring it up.
“Touche. But you are out of practice.” He pointed at me, ignoring my sudden stiffness, and my fear of mentioning the past faded. I just wouldn’t do it again. This was not the time and definitely not the place.
“True, but it’s like riding a bike,” I said.
“Well I just so happen to have bought two packs of fudgy chocolate chip cookie mix.” He reached into the bag, pulled out the toothbrushes, and held up another pack. “I feel a bet coming on. You up for it?”
“What are the conditions?” I asked, knowing regardless of what they were, I was already in.
“We each make a batch and whoever’s is better gets the bed for the night,” he said, nodding towards it.
“Oh, you are on,” I said with a laugh.
“A year is a long time,” he said, and my heart skipped a beat.
What was that supposed to mean? Was he really going to bring up our relationship? Now?
“For all you know, I could have become a pro where Easy Bake Ovens are concerned,” he said, putting his game face on, the same one he got when he was in the middle of a video game with Josh.
“I’ll take my chances,” I said, and we both laughed.
When Zach pulled the oven out of the box I noticed it was a different, fancier version from the one I had when I was a kid. I took the box in my hand to read the directions and see if it worked the same.
“I’m sorry, Zach,” I said and he looked up, concern filling his dark eyes.
“For what?”
“This is for children eight and up. Looks like you’re disqualified.” I tried not to laugh. To keep my face as serious as possible.
“Cute. Very funny.”
“I thought so.” I smiled again. It felt good—a nice contrast to my earlier state.
Zach set everything up on the nightstand and placed it in front of the bed. We sat beside each other working on our creations. I couldn’t hold back a snort when I looked over and saw him placing rainbow sugar crystals in his cookie dough.
“What?” he asked, stopping what he was doing.
“Nothing.” I kept my attention on my mix and didn’t look up at him.
“You know what? You do what you do, and I’ll do what I do. Then when the taste test comes, we’ll see whose cookies are better.”
I nodded, perfectly aware they were not going to be his. Especially when he added the pink frosting mix after he put in the sugar crystals. You weren’t supposed to mix packages. The frosting and the cookie mix were two separate products. But I wasn’t about to tell him that. Besides, if he’d read the directions he would have picked up on that small but important piece of information. Then again, Zach was never one to follow the rules. He liked to think outside the box. Even if he did wind up with a poor excuse for a cookie, he wouldn’t care because his was creative. It was obvious he got his logic from Mimi.
I looked away when our eyes met. For whatever reason, the intensity in his gaze scared me. It was too familiar. Too reminiscent of times past. I couldn’t handle it. So before I could fall into his spell, I shifted my eyes away.
We finished making our cookies with little conversation. I pretended I was intent on making the best cookies an Easy Bake Oven could make.
Zach tried taking his cookie out after a few seconds, but I made Mr. Impatient wait the full eight to nine minutes as the directions stated. The alarm on his phone beeped and Zach took the spatula thing that came in the
